


Heading Home Again

by al-the-remix (only_blue)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27149183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_blue/pseuds/al-the-remix
Summary: The mackerel were early, and so the fishermen came out early with them. Zhenya watched them from far away in his hiding spot as the boats rocked gently with the waves and the men worked under the bright midday sun. They shucked their shirts off despite the chill in the air, and Zhenya watched in fascination as their skin glimmered white with sweat, almost as bright as the mackerel they pulled from the water—almost.
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Comments: 15
Kudos: 97
Collections: Sid/Geno Spooky Fest 2020





	Heading Home Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pr_scatterbrain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_scatterbrain/gifts).



> pr_scatterbrain, you prompted one of my favourite things, mermaids! This is a little bit of a twist on that, but I tried my best to fit as many of the tropes you listed into this fic. I hope you enjoy it! :)

Zhenya followed the school of mackerel from where the Barents Sea met the Greenland Sea, trailing them down the Atlantic coast to pool in the basin of the Maritimes. This year the mackerel had started moving earlier in the season, earlier in the season than ever before, following the warm channels of spring water as they made their way down to Newfoundland. Zhenya had almost been unprepared for the trip. His mother said maybe it was a good omen, that they got to start the hunting season early, but Zhenya had been left unsettled. There was a distinct apprehension that shifted restlessly under his skin, but maybe that was just nerves. Zhenya was now of an age where he was expected to go out and find a home of his own, away from his clan and the rocky nook they called home in a cove by the White Sea.

There was anxiousness, but there was also excitement starting out this new journey. He remembered following the ocean currents during the summers to Newfoundland with his family when he was younger, where the water most days was quiet and calm and children would play on the rocky beaches, dipping their toes into the cold water and squealing, running back up the beach. They were fond memories, and that was probably why Zhenya had ended up there; his body had taken him there purely through instincts, following the mackerel and a vague sense of sureness in his belly.

Camouflaged by the rocks, Zhenya spent most of his days upon arrival watching people on the beach. He liked the small fisherman’s huts that dotted the shore and the lush green grass that was allowed to grow wild, and the brightly coloured boats that bobbed, latched to the greying wood docks. Yes, he liked it here; it was safe, so far away from the deep swells of cold water and the danger that lay in the deepest parts of the ocean and the commercial boats that trolled there.

The mackerel were early, and so the fishermen came out early with them. Zhenya watched them from far away in his hiding spot as the boats rocked gently with the waves and the men worked under the bright midday sun. They shucked their shirts off despite the chill in the air, and Zhenya watched in fascination as their skin glimmered white with sweat, almost as bright as the mackerel they pulled from the water— _almost._ Hundreds of squirming silver bodies were hoisted out of the water and into the open air by net. They were beautiful and they were _Zhenya’s_. He had chased them all the way here, battled the currents and the tide, and on some nights, what felt like the moon itself. Zhenya wouldn’t be giving them up that easily. His heart was filled with a deep hunger and an unshakable force of will.

x x x

Kris and Marc sagged together like a pair of rotten logs inside the ship’s cabin. Sid shook his head, letting out a small huff of a laugh. Unbelievable. In the background, Pascal murmured low through the satellite phone to his wife.

Sid felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked over to see Pascal watching the two sleeping crew members with a fond smile, finished with his call. “I’ll take them in with me on the dory.”

“Thanks,” Sid said, and they watched their friends for a moment in companionable silence, exhausted from the day’s work.

“You sure you’ll be all right?” Pascal asked. “You know I don’t like to leave one man on the boat alone.”

“Yeah, cause these two are going to be such a help.” Sid chuckled. “Take them, I promise I won’t do any work, I just like to sleep here.”

“Maybe, if I believed you.” Pascal sighed, knowing he wouldn’t win this argument, and went over to kick Kris and Marc awake.

Sometimes, on calm nights like this one, Sid would drop the anchor and stay out on the ship alone. The cot wasn’t as comfortable as his bed at home, but the gentle rocking and the sounds of the ocean at night helped him sleep.

Sid waved his crewmen off as the small boat zipped away towards shore, and sat himself down on a flipped-over milk crate on the deck with a length of rope, weaving a net back together where it had been snagged on some rocks. Slowly the sun began to set, and Sid let himself get caught up in the sway of the ship and the push and pull of the rope in his hands. The fibres caught on his calluses as he weaved; they told a story of years of hard work, like the rings on a tree. Sid could weave a net with his eyes closed, a long-practiced skill and one that he loved--he would say that he could do most of his work with his eyes closed at this point--but that was how smart men got caught: they got cocky and forgot that the ocean was just another beast unwilling to be tamed and they were allowed to sail across her only because she allowed it.

You had to be wary. The sea was filled with more mysteries unknown to man than any other frontier, Sid was sure. He would never be as arrogant as the sailors on the large trolling ships or rigs deep out at sea where sometimes losing attention for a second could cost you a limb or a life. Sid was fond of the sturdy wood floor of his ship, and his rope nets and the work that made his eyes droop, listening to the quiet sloshing of the water against the rocks and the gulls in the distance.

Suddenly, there was a flash, something bright and sharp, accompanied by a foreign sound that struck out against the restless silence of twilight. Between his feet sat a small shell, pale like bone and misplaced against the dark shadows of the ship. It hadn’t been there a second ago and Sid nudged it with the tip of his boot.

There was a sharp sting to his skin, pain blooming across his cheek, and Sid winced, dropping his net to cup the side of his face. There was a second shell on the floor of the boat, lying there innocently beside the first. Sid looked out across the water, but there was nothing but the flat black ocean and the horizon, highlighted by the faintest hint of orange, the final remnants of the sun.

There was a soft rasp along the side of the boat, sending it rocking off its previous rhythm. A shiver ran up Sid’s spine and he sat straight up, suddenly not tired at all. His skin buzzed down to the tips of his fingers where they gripped the gunnel hard. He had that distinct feeling of eyes on the back of his neck and whipped his head around, but again, nothing.

Sid’s pulse was a small bird fluttering high in his throat. He reassured himself that it could easily be a seal or a rock or a million other things, as he stared into the depths for what felt like hours, every second drawn out slow like molasses.

Another bump came, jostling the boat from the other side, and Sid ran across the deck, throwing himself against the edge to get a better look--and he saw it, a form too deep to make out, ghostly white and long.

Sid stopped breathing altogether, his body just one throbbing pulse. The boat was bumped again, harder than before, and Sid gripped the wood so hard he was probably going to get splinters, but he didn’t care as the object made another pass. Whatever it was, it was _circling_ him, closer to the surface this time. It was too long to be a seal and moved like nothing he had ever seen before. Sid felt a primal surge of adrenaline, making him shiver despite his thick sweater and waxed jacket.

Sid had grown up listening to stories about selkies and storm kelpies and mermaids alike, old stories his grandmother used to tell him after dinner beside the fire. He had never really believed them, even as a child, but he had always _wanted_ to. He spent most of his time out at sea, when he wasn’t focused on the nets, casting his eyes across the horizon hoping, always hoping for some unfamiliar silhouette, some unidentifiable shadow that slipped silently beneath the waves. Those daydreams would never compare to the frisson of excitement and fear that cascaded down his spine at the sight of this creature, this—whatever it was.

The pale shape continued to circle him. Sid watched it, dizzily, as it spiralled. It was the same sensation he imagined as getting sucked down a whirlpool. He wasn’t expecting it when a jet of water shot out, hitting him in the face.

Sid cursed, wincing as he rubbed at his eyes. Blinking past the blur of tears that clouded his vision, Sid made out the faintest shape of shoulders and a head, but by the time his eyes had cleared, all signs of the creature were gone.

x x x

“Sid! Hey _Sidney!_ ”

There was banging on the side of the ship’s cabin, loud enough to rattle the window glass in its frame. Sid rolled out of his cot and stood groggily. The floor in the ship was cold even through his wool socks, and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

He had stayed up as late as he could, trying to catch another glimpse of the creature. He had spent so many nights out here, alone, watching the ocean, but had never felt like something was watching him back until now. Eventually sleep had won over, tugging at his eyelids, and Sid had fallen asleep to the hush of the waves lapping against the edge of the boat, and the taste of salt on the back of his tongue, and a presence he couldn’t shake.

Sid pushed his head through the door, squinting against the harsh white sunlight of the early morning. “What?”

Even harsher was Pascal’s angry face. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line? What the hell happened out here?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sid said, and continued rubbing at his eyes until they gave in and focused.

“Take a look for yourself, _captain._ ”

Sid pulled on his pants and boots and walked up onto the deck where Kris and Marc were scratching their heads over the mass of net carnage covering the boat floor. Each one of the nets had been dragged out to the centre of the deck and had a hole ripped in it the size of Sid’s waist.

“What the hell,” he muttered. It would take a week’s worth of work to fix them, or more than that in wages to replace them all. “I don’t know what happened, I was _fixing_ them last night.”

“Could it have been birds?” Kris asked, and turned on Marc when he muttered, “ _Don’t be stupid.”_

“Do you have a better idea, smartass?” Kris snapped.

“Yeah, actually. Take any Ambien lately, Sid?” Marc turned on him with a smirk.

Sid ignored their bickering, and looked back to Pascal whose brow was furrowed like a line of angry black clouds. “I don’t know how this could have happened, I didn’t even hear it.”

He hadn’t woken at all during the night, which was weird. A wave of cold rolled over his body as he remembered the circling figure. But what could possibly do this? Sid had no idea.

“There’s no point worrying about it now,” he said. “Let’s try and get as many of these fixed as we can, eh?”

They sat in a circle on flipped-over milk crates, weaving the nets back together like Sid had done last night. Sid was unable to get lost in his work the same way he usually did, his mind filled with endless possibilities, each one more outlandish than the next.

Faintly, as he worked, images came back to him in flashes, remnants of a dream he could barely put together from last night. Sid hardly ever remembered his dreams, but now each surfacing memory was like a vivid puzzle piece clicking into place. Slowly, they came back together like the net in his hands: a man, under the water, black eyes and sharp teeth, and _legs--_ crawling from the sea onto the deck--but that was impossible. It must be.

The day bled away slowly like that, working on the nets until their fingers cramped and their backs ached. Finally, Pascal stood and stretched until his spine gave a satisfying pop and he groaned. “We should head out soon.”

Sid kept working and Pascal clarified even though Sid had picked up on his subtext the first time around: “We should _all_ head out soon.”

“I’m going to stay here,” Sid said, refusing to budge.

Pascal’s gaze sharpened. “I don’t think you should stay out here alone. I don’t think _anyone_ should, I’m serious.”

“I’ll stay up, don’t worry about it. Someone needs to watch the nets, and I can get some more work done. It’ll be _fine_ ,” Sid reassured.

Pascal looked even less convinced than normal. “I know there’s no stopping you, so I’ll see you tomorrow, but I don’t like it. Be careful, Sid,” he said with a shake of his head, and stepped onto the dory with Marc and Kris. Sid watched the boat as it sped away, still unable to shake the feeling of eyes on the back of his neck.

x x x

The night was gusty, and as the sun lowered the wind picked up. Sid braced himself against it, pulling the collar of his jacket up around his ears. There had been no mention of rain or storm on the weather scanners, but in the distance, the dark clouds bubbled and frothed like an over-boiling pot spilling over. That same uneasy feeling built slowly in Sid’s chest once again until it felt like his skin was crawling in static. There was a sharp crack in the distance and Sid’s stomach sank. He didn’t want to be on the water alone when lightning struck.

Sid cursed himself for being stupid. He should have taken the boat back to shore with the others but his curiosity had overwhelmed him. He _had_ to see if the creature came back, intrigued by it's presence and miffed at what it had potentially done to him in property damage.

He paced the deck and waited, pulling on his gloves and fetching a throw net--the only one that had been left untouched. He clutched it tight in his hands and went to stand by the gunnel, staring down into the turbulent black water. There was no fully formed plan in his mind, but he figured he had one shot to catch this thing, and he wasn’t going to miss it.

Eventually it came, just like Sid knew it would. First, there was that scraping sound against the hull. Sid imagined all the things it could be; images of scales and fins and claws flashed before his eyes. Then it was the ghostly shape of a body, just under the surface, circling his ship like it had the night before.

Sid gripped his net tighter to stop his fingers from trembling. Droplets dotted his cheeks and caught in his eyelashes as suddenly rain began to fall around him, obscuring his view of the creature and making the wood planks under his feet slippery. Sid steeled himself and when the shadow of the creature circled back around, he threw his net. It was clumsy, but he had never tried to catch something like this before.

The net sank down like a web and Sid pulled the draw rope back quickly till he hit resistance. There was a sharp tug to his arms, threatening to pull them out of their sockets as the thing in the net thrashed and tangled. Sid held tight, his shoulders burning. Overhead the sky cracked open, the rain turning from spitting to pouring as the wind picked up. Around them, the ocean swelled out of nowhere.

Whatever the creature was, it was much stronger than Sid had anticipated, wrenching his arms till he had to either let go or get pulled overboard. He let the rope slip from his fingers and watched in panic as it sank, unable to do anything to stop it. This wasn’t what he had wanted. He leaned over the side of the boat, bracing himself and watching as bubbles slowly rose to the top.

The net came back into view, and Sid watched, mystified, as it bobbed against the waves, a man-sized hole torn in its side. A pale shape floated up beside it, breaching the surface. Sid stared dumbly at what was very clearly the head and shoulders of a man. It was unbelievable, and yet Sid knew with unshakable certainty exactly what he was seeing, the truth settling as a low weight in his stomach: this wasn't a seal or a manatee or whatever else people liked to excuse as mermaids as they brushed fisherman’s stories under the rug.

“Who are you?” Sid asked in wonder, and the merman flicked a second pair of eyelids over instead of a reply.

The man in the water lowered himself so everything below his eyes was underwater and suddenly, a jet of water shot out, hitting Sid right in the face like it had the night before. Disoriented, he stumbled. The last thing he saw, past the blurry edges of his vision and the smudgy colours of the sea and the sky blending together, was the clear outline of an upper body, face ghostly white, eyes dark and wet--then another wave crashed against the boat and Sid was tipped over into the sea.

As he sank slowly in the tumultuous waters, something grabbed him under the arms and yanked him up towards the surface. It was a clear outline of a man, legs and all, his body shining like his skin was covered in thousands of tiny jewels.

x x x

Zhenya was relieved when his feet finally hit the sand. The body in his arms was heavy; the man was strong and there were blunt fingertips digging into his shoulders, making his skin throb dully. But the man was breathing and shivering and alive, so Zhenya didn’t think too much about it.

He dropped him in the sand, halfway up the shallow strip of beach, and the man sagged like a sack of potatoes, exhausted. Zhenya dropped down beside him. His shins burned hotly from where they had been rubbed raw by the net, but Zhenya couldn’t blame him, not when Zhenya had provoked. If his mother could see him now, Zhenya’s ears would surely be sore from the tugging and scolding he would get for playing tricks.

 _“Sid--”_ Zhenya had heard the man’s crewmen call him. His eyes were dark slits with the barest hint of pupil visible from between his eyelids. As he lay in the sand, the man tried to slow the cadence of his breathing. Zhenya watched his companion out of the corner of his eye as he too tried to catch his breath. Even in the low light, his skin was tan from working long hours in the sun. He had lost his jacket and his clothes were soaked from the ocean and the rain, clinging to his bulky shape. Zhenya’s fingers itched to push away the inky curls that were plastered against his forehead, but he didn’t think that would be welcome. So Zhenya sat tensely and waited for the moment when the sailor— _Sid_ —realized what he was.

Finally, Sid pushed himself up onto his elbows in the sand, and looked Zhenya directly in the eye. There was none of the shock, disgust, or fear splashed across his face that Zhenya had anticipated. His eyes were filled with heartfelt curiosity and Zhenya was suddenly overtaken with shyness at the attention.

 _“Hi,”_ the man said, cutting the tension, and Zhenya laughed abruptly, struck dumb. Whatever he had been expecting to come out of the man’s mouth, it hadn’t been “ _Hi.”_

Sid got to his feet and swayed slightly, and Zhenya wondered if the man had hit his head falling overboard. “Could you help me get to my house?” Sid asked.

Zhenya scrambled to his feet, webbed toes slipping in the sand. Slinging one of Sid’s arms over his shoulder, Zhenya carried his weight as Sid guided them over the rough grass that blanketed the hillside, up to a row of small houses. He kept on looking over at Zhenya like he couldn’t really believe he was there. That made two of them. 

“This one,” he said eventually, and pointed to a cabin with shiplap in bright candy apple red. It had a horseshoe over the door, balanced there like a cup full of good fortune.

It was a modest cabin, one room with a bed against one wall and a table against the other. There was a small window at the back and a wood stove tucked beside it. Sid went right to the stove when they got inside the house, dropping to his knees to get it started. When he was done, he stood and stripped his waterlogged clothes in a perfunctory manner. Zhenya looked around, feeling out of place.

“Did my nets do that to you?”

When Zhenya turned back around, Sid had pulled on socks and sweatpants, his chest still bare. Zhenya barely absorbed what he was saying. It was different, seeing him up close.

“You’re hurt,” he clarified, pointing to Zhenya’s legs.

Zhenya looked down. Across his shins were raw scrapes. He hadn’t really thought about them since he first noticed but now he was dripping rivulets of green-tinted water onto the floor.

“Oh,” Zhenya said, and the man’s eyes were filled with sorrow. Zhenya had almost drowned him by accident and this man looked _guilty_.

“It was the rocks, don’t worry,” Zhenya said. It didn’t matter anyways. Zhenya could barely remember what had happened at this point; everything since getting caught in the net was an adrenaline-soaked blur. And, well, a scrape was just a scrape.

“Will you let me take a look at that?” Sid asked, but it wasn’t really a question, because he guided Zhenya with a hand on his elbow to sit on the bed. Zhenya felt sparks where the man’s calluses dragged over the tender crease on the inside of his arm where there were no scales and waited with some kind of fizzling anticipation while Sid pulled a first aid kit from the drawers under the bed.

He kneeled on the floor between Zhenya’s feet and cupped his heel gently. Zhenya felt a wave of lightheadedness as his gills fluttered against his neck.

Sid scrubbed Zhenya’s leg gently with an antiseptic pad, but it was still uncomfortable. He tried not to hiss at the sting but he must have made a noise anyways because Sid apologized, squeezing Zhenya’s ankle where his hand was cradling it gingerly.

“I’m Sid, by the way,” he said, and Zhenya just barely refrained from saying: “ _I know.”_

“Zhenya,” he answered instead.

Sid laughed a little, to himself. “Russian, eh? I shouldn’t be surprised, I’ve had a few guys on my ship that were Russian, and each one of them would have sworn up and down ten times that they had seen something fishy in the water.” He laughed at his own joke and Zhenya wrinkled his nose. “I guess they were right.”

“But I didn’t think you’d have legs,” Sid confessed, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the thin film of webbing between Zhenya’s toes. The sensation rippled all the way up his spine, making his abdominals clench.

“What you think?” Zhenya asked, trying to distract himself from the way the touch made him feel.

“I don’t know, a tail I guess? That’s what all the stories say.”

The only time Zhenya had had a tail was as a fry. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“You’re not a disappointment, you’re unbelievable. _Trust me_ ,” Sid said earnestly, and squeezed Zhenya’s ankle more firmly.

Sid had a lot of questions for him: how did he breathe out of water--through his skin, an answer which received a breathless, _“Amazing.”_ If he had a family, where they lived, what Zhenya was doing in the Maritimes.

“Looking for a new home, to start my own clan, and maybe mama and papa will come over.”

Sid was silent for a long moment and Zhenya watched curiously as Sid tended to his leg. “So you _weren’t_ trying to kill me?” Sid asked eventually. There was a faint scent coming off him, past the salt and the human musk. It was a deeper, earthier scent: it was want, low and simmering, Zhenya realized all at once, and felt his stomach burn. He almost forgot to answer the question.

“We like to play tricks, like games, sometimes riddles.”

“You _ripped up all my nets,_ ” Sid said, disbelieving.

“You took my fish,” Zhenya retorted, feeling sheepish with hindsight.

“They’re _everybody’s_ fish.” Sid shook his head as if he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. “Well, I honestly thought you were going to try and eat me, so I guess I can live with a little psychological warfare.” He looked up at Zhenya, then smiled, broad, like he was pleased with his own joke and he wanted Zhenya to be pleased too.

Zhenya had to look away, examining Sid’s fly lures in a display frame on the wall. Each one of them was like a small painted songbird. Zhenya’s mind reeled with possibilities. It was an unfair advantage that he could smell Sid’s feelings on his skin while Sid himself was left blind, but that didn’t mean Zhenya felt brave enough to make an offer. He had never--and definitely not with a _human_ \--though he knew it was possible.

“Here, you look cold.” Sid was holding out a thick knit sweater. He had put away the first aid kit while Zhenya had been trying his best to ignore him in the tiny room. It was futile; there wasn’t anywhere to look but Sid’s broad, pale chest. Zhenya looked back down at his own hands instead--which were indeed shivering--more from the remnants of adrenaline than anything else, he figured.

Zhenya accepted the sweater. The cream wool was soft and it felt good sliding over his scales. He pulled the sleeves down over his fingers and the neck up over his nose.

When he looked back up, Sid was still watching him, a secret smile twisting across his lips.

“Comfy?” Sid asked, and Zhenya nodded. Sid settled down across from him, on the floor, leaning back on his hands in front of the fire, his eyes closed in enjoyment. Zhenya indulged himself in watching him freely, as he had so many days from the rocks and the water. It was different here, private, and Zhenya could examine his bare skin hallowed by the warm glow of the fire, and the way the light curled over the thick muscles of his arms. The tips of his curls were drying against his neck, fluffing up and all of a sudden, Zhenya felt inexplicably shy.

A cat suddenly appeared from nowhere, winding her way around Sid’s torso until he gave in and petted her. Zhenya watched in fascination. He’d never seen one up close.

“What’s her name?” he asked.

“Tuna,” Sid replied, with another one of those smiles, like he was waiting for Zhenya to get the joke. What a thing to name a cat.

Zhenya held his hand out to her and she sniffed his fingers inquisitively, jumping up on the bed once she had deemed him acceptable.

Sid laughed, big and bright, his eyes disappearing into creases. “Makes sense that she’d like a mermaid, you probably smell like dinner to her.”

Zhenya flushed hot. “I’m not _mermaid,_ ” he snapped. “I’m not _fish._ ” Those were names from silly folk stories. Zhenya was _real_.

“Okay, okay,” Sid said, eyeing Zhenya’s scales. He didn't look convinced, but he kept his mouth shut, and Zhenya thought he was smart not to argue with someone with canines as sharp as Zhenya’s.

Sid went back to basking in the heat the wood stove was throwing off and Zhenya continued to examine his full mouth and his soft pink nipples. He wondered how deep the colour went and Zhenya thought about how he’d be happy to show Sid how real he was.

He noticed goosebumps over Sid’s shoulders and his arms. It was as good an excuse as any, and probably the best he was going to get in the moment. “Come here, you're cold too.”

“Oh, I mean, I can sleep on the floor by the fire, if you want?”

Zhenya made room for him on the bed and patted the mattress. Maybe he hadn’t built up the nerve for anything else yet, but he could ask Sid for this.

Suddenly, Zhenya wished he hadn’t accepted the sweater so he could feel the slide of Sid’s skin on his scales. He breathed in shallowly against the dip in Sid’s neck and felt him shiver again with a fresh wave of want, and maybe, like Zhenya, he wasn’t shivering because of the cold.

Tuna curled against his back once they settled, so Zhenya was bracketed by two warm bodies.

“Goodnight,” Sid said, and reached up to flick off the lamp, plunging them both into darkness. Zhenya could still smell him, and feel Sid’s heartbeat through his skin. He was never going to be able to sleep like this.

x x x

Outside the windows, the sky was still dark when Sid woke, plastered in sweat. It was too early in the morning for the sun to have risen yet. Zhenya was a solid line behind him, still pressed up against Sid’s spine and wrapped in one of his sweaters. The tip of his nose was cold where it fit into the dip behind Sid’s ear. Sid examined Zhenya’s hand where it was resting on Sid’s bare hip, a little clammy, but not unpleasant. He studied the blue veins he could see through Zhenya’s skin and the small turquoise scales that dotted the outside of his forearm.

Tuna had retired to the chair by the fire, apparently having had enough of them, and soaking in the warmth from the last remaining coals.

Sid knew he had to get up and re-stoke the fire, but it was hard to pull himself away when Zhenya’s even breathing was dragging him back down into sleep like an anchor. The sound reminded Sid of crashing waves and Zhenya's body was sturdy when Sid pressed himself back against it.

He wasn’t lonely per se; it felt like there was always someone around to share a beer and a laugh with, but it wasn’t the same as having someone to come home to at night, to share a bed with and to whisper secret things in the dark, warm spaces between their bodies. Every once in a while someone came through that Sid could get close to, but most didn’t stay here for long unless they had a family tying them to the town.

Sid pushed himself away eventually. It still got cold at night this time in the spring, by the coast, dipping down to temperatures where no matter how warm Sid felt in the moment, it wasn’t worth freezing.

He poked the coals around and threw another log on, taking a moment to scritch Tuna under the chin until she purred happily.

Zhenya was watching him when Sid turned back to the bed, and Sid wondered how long he’d been awake.

“Hi,” Sid said, shifting his weight as Zhenya continued to just watch him. His second eyelids flicked over in a way that made Sid sure that he was missing something. Zhenya had done it earlier, when he had been watching Sid--maybe his eyes were just drying out, but Sid didn't think that was it.

Zhenya sat up abruptly. “It’s too hot,” he explained, peeling off Sid’s sweater.

Sid watched the stretch of his torso, a little guiltily. He knew he should look away, but he couldn't take his eyes off Zhenya, and clearly Zhenya didn’t care one bit as he stripped. Zhenya seemed--for the most part--pretty normal. As far as Sid expected mythical creatures to be, at least. But he didn’t know how to read him. Maybe crawling into bed with someone and spooning them was casual merman interaction.

Or maybe it was the way Zhenya lay back against the bed once the sweater was off, and for all intents and purposes, draped himself across Sid’s mattress, a blue-tinged blush high on his cheekbones.

Sid swallowed around the sudden dryness in his throat, his feet glued to the spot and his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth.

From where he lounged on the bed, Zhenya fanned out his fins to show them off. “Do you think they’re pretty?” he asked, and Sid flushed. Zhenya’s voice was a little hesitant, like he wanted to show off, but he was shy about it. Maybe he didn’t know if Sid would be receptive. Somehow amidst all of that, Sid still felt like he was being teased—Zhenya _had_ to know already that his fins were beautiful.

“They’re very nice.”

“Do you want to look closer?” Zhenya asked. His voice was deep and melodic, the syllables smooth and rounded like water flowing over rocks, and even from across the room it felt like they were being whispered directly into Sid’s ear.

“I shouldn’t,” Sid said, but crossed the small distance between them anyways.

He sat on the edge of the mattress, by Zhenya’s feet, and stared openly, admiring all of him up close, in the light for the first time.

“You can touch,” Zhenya said, fanning out the little fins on his hips.

“I _shouldn’t_ ,” Sid repeated, but Zhenya was right there, his scales and fins catching the light thrown by the fire and filling Sid with a guilty want. He loved his job, but it was _solitary_. The community was small, all his friends were married. Everyone was married or a decade too young and Sid just needed--

Sid reached out and smoothed his hand over Zhenya’s shin, making sure to carefully avoid the scrapes. He still felt responsible for those. But Zhenya just sighed and relaxed further into the mattress, his eyes half-lidded and the strip of fins that ran up the outside of his calf fluttering. Sid touched the one along the subtle curve of his calf, fingers finding the end of their path at his heel, but Sid couldn’t imagine letting go, so he curled his fingers around the fine bones of Zhenya’s ankle.

Sid felt hotter than the coals, glowing from the inside out. There was _no way_ he was reading this wrong. Feeling bolder, Sid skimmed his hand the rest of the way up Zhenya’s long leg, over where the scales on his abdomen blended seamlessly into soft skin. It felt like he hadn’t dried out at all, like maybe he was made from the water itself. Sid was mesmerized by the long bones of Zhenya’s forearms, his corded muscles, and the knobs of his ribcage that poked up starkly against his skin. Sid wanted to trace his fingers over every part of him until the shape of him was clear in Sid’s mind and unforgettable.

Zhenya had stayed mostly quiet through all of this, chewing distractedly at his lip. Every once in a while his second eyelids dragged slowly over, watching Sid’s face as he explored.

Sid hoped that this was okay and that he wasn’t making a fool of himself. He petted Zhenya’s flank and did it again when a tremor ran through Zhenya’s stomach muscles. Zhenya let his lip go from his mouth, slick and plush. He shifted his hips restlessly against the bed as Sid traced his finger carefully over the gossamer edge of Zhenya’s delicate fin at the flare of his hips. Sid kept going, emboldened by the way Zhenya’s breathing picked up. He was still so quiet.

Sid’s fingers finally reached the centre of his curiosity, the thing Sid had been trying his best not to think too hard about since Zhenya had brought him to his cabin: the smooth space between his legs--but it wasn’t so smooth anymore. Zhenya arched himself into Sid’s touch, baring the space between his legs where his scales parted and revealed tender inner skin.

Sid blushed hotly. There was no denying that he was in this all the way.

“Okay?” Zhenya asked hesitantly when Sid was quiet for too long.

“Yeah,” Sid said, and crawled properly onto the bed, straddling him. He settled his weight on Zhenya’s upper thighs. With his legs spread, the tent in his sweats was obvious. Resting one hand safely on the sharp bone of Zhenya’s hip, Sid palmed himself, trying to relieve some of the pressure. Zhenya watched him with big eyes and Sid just wanted to touch him and make him feel good, but he was so out of his element. “I don’t really know what to do here,” Sid admitted. “You have to tell me what you like.”

Zhenya turned his head against the pillow and wouldn’t meet Sid’s eyes. That wasn’t the reaction Sid had been hoping for. He panicked for a moment before Zhenya curled his fingers in Sid’s sheets and admitted, very quietly: _“First.”_

It took a moment for Sid to register what he meant, but the thin line of Zhenya’s lips and the deepening blue tinge on his cheekbones made it clear.

“Oh, come here,” Sid said, and tucked himself over Zhenya’s stiff body. It was an awkward angle to hug in, but Sid buried his face in Zhenya’s hair. It was the closest they had been yet, and slowly Zhenya softened and curled himself into Sid’s embrace.

Sid just had to kiss him. He’d been thinking about it since Zhenya had sat on his bed and let Sid tend to his scrapes and tucked himself inside one of Sid’s sweaters. His mouth was just as soft as it looked and the edge of his teeth caught on Sid’s bottom lip. It was thrilling and it filled his stomach with heat and his mouth with a metallic taste. Sid pulled away and touched his fingers to his lip.

“Sorry,” Zhenya apologized sheepishly.

Sid studied his face. He looked close to Sid’s age and handsome for a mer…person; he had to have other merpeople interested in him. Sid wondered if they were breaking the rules of some cross-cultural mating customs but decided quickly that he didn’t care. Zhenya was looking at him hopefully and touching his face and Sid was going to do whatever Zhenya wanted.

He kissed him again for a bit. His lips were cold, and he kept dipping his tongue into Sid’s mouth to run over his smooth human teeth. Sid wondered if he felt burning hot on the inside to Zhenya, as he made a soft noise and sucked on Sid’s tongue intently.

Sid broke the kiss when they were both breathless. “Here, just--uh--stay there,” he said, and moved down Zhenya’s body, kissing as he went. It felt romantic and maybe a little silly, but he was sure that Zhenya had never watched cheesy human porn before, saving Sid the embarrassment of knowing where his moves came from. He pressed his mouth to the swell between Zhenya’s legs, tracing the edges of the slit with his tongue. Sid didn’t know much about _slits_ \--human or otherwise--but his mouth had never gotten a bad review, and he gained confidence when Zhenya pushed into the touch and let out a sound like he’d been shocked.

Zhenya spread his legs wider and Sid took the invitation, pressing his tongue firmly against the sweet flesh and felt Zhenya’s slit flourishing. Sid pushed his tongue deeper. Zhenya wasn’t necessarily cold per se, but Sid could feel the difference in heat between their skin and figured Zhenya enjoyed the warmth of his mouth.

Zhenya made a series of high aspirated noises as Sid laved his tongue over the soft folds of his slit. His legs trembled on either side of Sid’s head and suddenly his tongue met resistance. Sid pulled back enough to press kisses to the inside of Zhenya’s thigh and watched as the pale head of what he was assuming was Zhenya’s dick nudged through his folds. Sid found it kind of cute, that it was tucked inside like that, and redoubled his efforts, sealing his mouth over the opening and sucking, enjoying having to work to get Zhenya hot.

Sid sucked harder, pressing the tip of his tongue to the head, and Zhenya made a sound like he’d been goosed, his thighs clamping down around Sid’s head. Fingers clutched at the back of Sid’s neck, the sharp points of Zhenya’s nails digging into his skin and making him flinch. Zhenya pulled him back by the nape of his neck; he looked ruinous, face flushed and eyes glassy.

“Too much?” Sid asked. “We can slow it down for a moment.”

Sid sat back on his heels. There was a wet spot on the front of his sweats now, seeping through the fabric. It was visual evidence of just how much Sid had enjoyed using his mouth on Zhenya.

Zhenya made a soft noise and reached for him, curling his fingers into the waistband.

“Oh, all right.” This wasn’t Sid’s first time, far from it, but his heartbeat was out of control in his chest as if it was as Zhenya drew the front of his sweats down to reveal Sid’s cock.

Sid was hard, not thinking about it hard, but _hard_ \--drawn up against his belly and flushed. He could feel his pulse between his legs and Sid pressed his hand to the underside of his cock. For being with someone he had just met, Sid felt emotionally raw, all of his vulnerable parts exposed. Maybe he needed to slow down for a moment too.

Zhenya made another small murmuring sound, something in a language Sid couldn’t understand. It sounded appreciative and Zhenya pressed a kiss to Sid’s bare hip bone. Sid petted his hair and watched his eyelids close fully this time and stay that way, his nose buried in Sid’s hip, nuzzling him there while Sid continued to feel exposed. He didn’t want Zhenya to be someone he _just met_ , he wanted him to stay.

Sid decided that he needed to enjoy the time they did have. Pushing Zhenya away gently, Sid stood and stripped himself of his remaining layers. “Move over,” he said, trying to sound steadier than he felt when he got back into the bed.

Zhenya made room for him and Sid lay on his back, pulling at Zhenya until he let Sid maneuver him into his lap, a reverse of their previous positions. Zhenya steadied himself with his hands on Sid’s chest, his eyes intent on Sid’s face and he settled his hips down so Sid’s cock pressed against the perfect slick skin of his slit.

He rolled his hips in an experimental thrust. “Just like that,” Sid encouraged, and guided Zhenya’s hips into a grind, a slow roll back and sharply forwards, creating a smooth rhythm that had Sid’s toes curling against the mattress. Zhenya picked it up quickly, bracing more of his weight on his hands and rubbing himself over Sid’s cock. His folds were soft and slippery and Sid watched as slowly the rest of Zhenya’s dick nudged out of its hiding place. It was smaller than Sid’s and ridged, curving sharply against his abdomen. It was so pale it was almost white, a stark contrast to where Sid could see the deep pink head of his own dick leak against his belly as they rubbed together.

“You like this?” Sid asked as they rocked.

Zhenya nodded. He was being quiet again, but the small fins at his hips were shivering and Sid liked the visual sign of Zhenya’s enjoyment as much as his noises.

He smoothed his hands up Sid’s torso. “I like these,” Zhenya said, and pinched Sid’s nipples lightly.

Sid’s hips bucked up involuntarily and Zhenya’s eyes widened as he pulled his hands back but Sid caught his wrists. “No, this is good,”

“It’s okay?”

“ _Really,_ okay. Do it again,” Sid insisted. Zhenya probably wouldn’t understand how good it felt considering his smooth nippleless torso.

Zhenya brought his hands back up to rub carefully over the peaks of Sid’s nipples with the pads of his thumbs. The sensation zinged all the way down to where the hot pressure of arousal was building in Sid’s pelvis, and he arched into it, encouraging Zhenya on.

Sid whined when Zhenya took his hands away again, but he was reaching down between his legs, lifting himself up so he could grasp Sid’s cock and fit it against the base of his dick. Sid was too turned on to care _what_ Zhenya was doing, he felt as if he was about to explode—then Zhenya pushed the head of Sid’s cock against his slit until it gave and Sid was sliding along the underside of his cock, _inside him--_

It was a snug fit, a warm pocket for him to tuck himself inside. Sid could feel the bulky shape of the base of Zhenya’s cock, tucked inside the slit with Sid’s. The head of Sid’s cock dragged against the underside of the muscle. His hips snapped up, unable to resist, and when Zhenya didn’t stop him, Sid held his hips tight and fucked into him with a few feverish strokes.

Zhenya was watching him, his mouth hanging open, totally concentrated on Sid as he got closer to coming. Sid knew what he looked like, pink and sweaty, his face scrunching up unattractively as his orgasm crested and he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.

He wasn’t expecting it when Zhenya pinched his nipples again, harder this time. A moan ripped out of him and Sid spilled inside Zhenya in a sudden hot, frictionless glide.

When Sid opened his eyes again, Zhenya looked flushed and pleased with himself, still hard and sitting in Sid’s lap. Sid pulled himself from the clutch of Zhenya’s slit, and with nowhere to go, Sid’s come leaked back out with him.

Zhenya touched his fingers to Sid’s fat bottom lip. “Can I have this?”

“You want my mouth again?” Sid asked breathlessly, and helped Zhenya shuffle up the bed till his knees were bracketing Sid’s face.

The scales on his thighs scraped lightly against Sid’s cheek and it took no thought to lean forward and suck the head of Zhenya’s cock back into his mouth.

Zhenya moaned indulgently above him. He seemed to have no objection to being loud now, as he rocked his hips into Sid’s mouth and made a lot of soft, pleased sounds that had Sid sucking at him desperately, wanting him to come too. His ears burned at the wet sucking noises he could hear coming from his own mouth, the sounds insulated by the thighs pressing against Sid’s ears, making them all the louder.

Sid touched his tongue to the dip in the arrow-shaped head of Zhenya’s dick, wiggling the tip into it, and Zhenya’s knees clamped down and he cried out, shuddering as he came. There wasn’t a lot of it, a thin, salty dribble against Sid’s tongue.

Eventually, the grip of Zhenya's knees slackened and he collapsed onto the bed beside Sid. They lay curled together. Sid was sweating from his hairline to the bottom of his feet, but it didn’t feel too gross if he lay still and waited for the brain fog to clear.

Once it did, he turned and looked at Zhenya who was watching him silently. It didn’t inspire the same nervousness as it had before; now he felt almost bashful. Yeah, Zhenya had been watching them because of the fish, but he’d singled Sid out like a child pulling pigtails on a playground, like he had a _crush--_ Sid being his first felt bigger all of a sudden, now that Sid wasn’t sex-addled and stupid with the need to come, and make Zhenya come too.

“Was that good?” he asked, hoping it was, hoping that maybe Zhenya would stay for a while, that he’d want to do it again. Zhenya had said he was looking for a place to settle down, and Sid didn’t know why it couldn’t be here with him. He felt a little silly hoping for all that after one night, and if it didn’t work it didn’t work, but Sid at least wanted to try. There was just enough room in this house for two.

x x x

Zhenya woke to the sensation of soft curls tickling his nose. He desperately needed a swim; his skin was covered in sweat and salt from Sid’s body. Zhenya looked down. Sid's release was still crusted on his scales and he flushed; he should probably wash that away too. Part of him didn’t really want to, pleased with the memories from the night before and that he’d taken the chance.

Restless, Zhenya was too awake to just lie here, and he needed to clear his head a bit. Pulling on some of Sid’s clothes, Zhenya made sure to put another log on the fire, like he had seen Sid do, and pet Tuna before heading out the door.

It was still quiet, this early in the morning, and most of the town was still asleep. Curious, Zhenya poked around. There wasn’t much to see: a few stores, some more houses, and a building that looked like it had three purposes into one small brick building. He wandered until he ended up down on the rocky beach and sat by the shore. Unsurprisingly, his mind felt clearest by the water. Zhenya could imagine himself finding a home here. And that had been his objective, hadn't it? The fish had been his own personal vendetta--which seemed childish in hindsight--and Sid? Finding Sid had been lucky. Or the product of that good omen his mother had been so sure about. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to give that up.

He heard Sid’s approaching footsteps, and he also heard it when Sid stopped and stood a few feet away. Zhenya smiled to himself and let Sid have his moment to look in private. He smelt conflicted, inspiring a nagging sensation of doubt in Zhenya’s stomach. He forced himself to sit still and suppress it.

After a while, Sid came and sat down beside him. As he spoke, he started picking up small rocks and tossing them into the ocean, gaze thoughtful and far away. “I was worried you were gone already,” he admitted, “and I was wondering if maybe you’d want to hang around here for a bit.” Zhenya was silent as he watched Sid slowly find his words and finally look at him. “I’m just, I want to get to know you more, and... well.” Sid laughed quietly and rubbed at the side of his nose. “Also, you owe me for all those nets. You help us out for the season and you can have your share.”

“We fish, that’s it?” Zhenya teased.

“Well, not _only_ fish,” Sid said, ducking his head and bumping their shoulder together. He stayed there, with their sides pressed together, sending a fresh wave of hopeful affection spreading through Zhenya’s body. It warmed him down to his toes.

Sid picked another pebble from the beach and tossed it into the ocean. “So?” he asked.

Instead of answering, Zhenya cupped a hand to the side of Sid’s face and brought him in for a kiss. Sid's lips were blood hot and when he relaxed his nose slotted perfectly into the dip beside Zhenya’s. Maybe he could find a home here in Sid too. Maybe they could find a home in each other.

Zhenya wouldn't be heading home again because he was already there. 


End file.
